


It Will Come Back

by eden22



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Happy Halloween!, Horror, M/M, Monsters, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: When Dex and Nursey end up being the only two left in the Haus over spring break, everyone leaves hoping they don't kill each other. Derek is just hoping for some great orgasms and to be able to ignore Dex the rest of the time.No one is expecting the thing that shows up to hunt them.





	1. Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul

“...and I’m going to be spending the break in Providence with Jack!” Bitty finishes with a grin, raising his head from his phone to look at Derek. “How about you, Nursey?” 

Derek rubs the back of his neck. “I was going to go home, but my moms are gonna be out of town so I was thinking I’d just stay here instead.” Bitty’s face falls as Derek speaks. 

“Oh no, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” he says. Derek shakes his head. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, they travel a lot, I’m used to it. We see each other when we’re able, it’s all good,” he smiles reassuringly at Bitty, who tentatively smiles back at him. “Besides, with the Haus to myself I’ll be able to get lots of writing done, maybe even get a bit ahead in my readings.” 

“Oh,” Bitty says, looking suddenly guilty, “well, I mean, that’s–” The thud of something heavy hitting the floor interrupts him, and Derek turns to see Dex walking over to the fridge, backpack abandoned by the door. 

“Hey,” Dex says distractedly, glancing over his shoulder at where Derek and Bitty are sitting at the kitchen table, before bending over to look into the fridge. Derek rolls his eyes, turning back to Bitty, who is somehow looking guiltier, eyes flicking between Derek and Dex. He bites his lip, and Derek frowns. 

“Wha–” he starts to ask, before the door to the fridge is slammed shut. He can feel the tension knotting his shoulders as Dex throws himself into the seat next to Bitty, taking a huge bite out of the apple in his hand. 

“W’a ‘o ta’ing ‘bout,” he asks through a mouthful of apple, spraying juice across the table. Derek wrinkles his nose, and he can see Bitty struggling to keep a politely neutral expression. 

“Spring break,” Bitty says, words clipped. “Would you like a napkin, sweetheart?” That was all that was needed to make Dex blanch and swallow carefully before he spoke again, shaking his head. 

“No thank you,” he says, pausing for a moment to make sure the danger has passed before continuing. “It’ll be good, since everyone’s gone I’ll be able to get a lot of repairs done.” 

“What.” Derek says flatly. 

“That was what I was gonna tell you,” Bitty says with an incredible degree of forced cheer. “You won’t be alone in the Haus over spring break, because you’ll both be here!” 

“Fuck,” Dex says. 

“Jesus, Poindexter,” Derek says, leaning back in his seat. 

“No, dude, c’mon,” Dex says, “not like that, it’s just like, I was gonna shut the water off and shit.” Derek bites at his lip, shrugging uncomfortably. 

“You can still do that,” he says. 

“Yeah I mean, if it won’t… bother you too much. If it does…” Dex trails off, leaving the unspoken ‘you can always leave’ hanging in the air between them. Derek shrugs, feeling annoyance curl in his gut. 

“Nah man,” he says. “It’s chill.” He watches the way the muscle in Dex’s jaw ticked with no small degree of satisfaction, ignoring Bitty rolling his eyes at both of them. 

“Great,” Bitty says, “well it’ll be good that you’ll have each other to keep y’all company.” It is truly impressive that he is able to say that with a straight face, Derek thinks, propping his chin up on his fist and resolutely not looking at Dex. Southerners are scary. 

“Otherwise you'd be all alone, and two weeks is a long time to be alone in this old Haus, goodness,” Bitty continues. “All the creaking and cracking, it’s no wonder the boys think it’s haunted.” He laughs as he stands, wandering out of the kitchen, phone already in hand and fingers flying across the keyboard as he goes. Dex raises an eyebrow, watching him leave before turning back to Derek.

“Ghosts?” he asks, and Derek shakes his head, smiling slightly. 

“What’s the matter Poindexter?” he asks, “Scared?” Dex narrows his eyes at him, before shaking his head. 

“Whatever man,” he says, standing. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be shutting off the water.” He shoves his apple back in his mouth before picking his backpack up off the floor and heading upstairs. Derek sighs, leaning his head into his palms, arms propped up on the table. 

“Fuck,” he says to the tabletop, watching as his two weeks vacation alone evaporate in front of his eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut. _What are the odds,_ he thinks to himself, _that I can go the entire two weeks without seeing Dex once?_

* * *

It turns out that the problem isn’t so much seeing Dex as it is hearing him. 

Derek’s plan for the break was simple. With two weeks and no other people around, he would spend at least half of every day writing, and whatever time he had left catching up with, and then getting ahead on, his readings for class. At the end of the break, he would have been ready to start the last half of the semester well ahead of where he needed to be, setting him up for a super chill final couple of months as a Junior. 

Instead, Derek spends the entire first day of the break shoved into a corner of the overcrowded Starbucks by campus in order to avoid Dex. He has never regretted sleeping with the one barista at Annies – the cute blonde with the finger tattooes – and then forgetting to call her back more than the third time a white soccer mom bumps into his table and then glares at him, as if he’d somehow deliberately put it in her way. The table he had managed to grab was so tiny it barely fit his laptop, and the store somehow managed to be packed the entire time he was there. He finally gives up and goes home when the sun begins to set, having spent almost $20 on coffee, written a grand total of 500 words, and apologized to multiple Beckys who had ran into _him_. As he settles into bed that night, he can’t help but think, somewhat desperately, that surely the rest of the break will have to be better than today.

The second day, after acknowledging to himself that no, he can’t spend the entire break hopping from coffeeshop to coffeeshop, is spent sitting at the kitchen table and contemplating murder. He has no idea what the fuck Dex is doing on the back porch but it is literally making the dishes sitting in the drying rack rattle against each other. His cursor blinks at him from the screen of his laptop, accusing, and he fights not to grind his teeth. He decides to call it a day after a particularly vivid imaging of himself going outside, pulling the hammer or whatever out of Dex’s hand, and bashing his head in with it. Throwing his laptop in his room, he all but runs from the Haus. He spends the rest of the day hanging out at his friend Zoey’s apartment, who makes very unhelpful comments about what kind of banging Dex and Derek could be doing instead, before making Derek help her with putting her twists back in. All in, he somehow manages to write even less than he had the day before. Walking back to the Haus late that night, he morosely wonders if he really will have to spend the entire break at Starbucks.

When he wakes up at 9am on the third day to the sounds of Dex already banging around somewhere below him, Derek can’t do anything but sigh in resignation as he stares up at the ceiling above his bed. His entire spring break stretches out ahead of him in that moment, one long, counterproductive headache. He lasts another fifteen minutes in bed, in which every bang makes him more and more annoyed, before he finally throws back his blankets and stomps down the stairs. In only boxers and socks, he can’t help but shiver as he moves through the ground floor, the chill of the spring morning still lingering inside the Haus, though the sun is shining outside. Dex is nowhere to be found on the ground floor, and Derek reluctantly heads towards the basement. 

Derek doesn’t like basements in general, and the Haus basement is no exception. He goes down there when he needs to, to do laundry, but otherwise avoids it; so, of course that would be where Dex is. Though he always says his dislike of basements is down to insects and the low height of the ceiling, the deeper truth is that he has just never quite gotten rid of that instinctive childhood fear of being underground, surrounded by darkness. The rickety wooden stairs rattle under his feet as he pads down them. The wall prevents him from seeing the entire room until he is about halfway down the stairs, when the rest of the basement finally comes into view to reveal Dex, frowning at the wooden shelf that had formerly hung above the washer and dryer. It is now sitting on the floor, and has been broken down into three separate pieces of wood, with the laundry detergents it had once held scattered on the ground around him. 

“What the fuck,” Derek says, and smiles in satisfaction when Dex visibly jumps. He turns towards Derek, already scowling. 

“Dude,” he says, voice pissy, and Derek is reminded that he is supposed to be the one who is (justifiably) angry. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, because now that he is down there, he can’t think of a good way to bitch Dex out without seeming petulant and very decidedly un-chill. He likes to leave that look to Dex. 

“Fixing the shelf,” Dex says, voice condescending in a way that would make Derek grind his teeth together if he was anyone else. Instead, he just nods. 

“Chill,” he says, and watches in satisfaction as an angry flush rises to dapple Dex’s cheeks. He walks the rest of the way down the stairs, picking his way across the floor and the bottles scattered across it. He leans up against the washing machine, out of the way enough for plausible deniability, but close enough to where Dex is working that the other man will be annoyed by Derek getting in his space. Sure enough, the muscle in Dex’s jaw jumps as he watches Derek settle back against the washer. 

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice acerbic. Derek just smiles beatifically back at him. 

“Very, thank you.” Dex waits for a beat, looking at Derek expectantly for some explanation of why he is still there. Derek’s smile widens.

Dex gives in first. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks. 

“Watching you fix the shelf,” Derek says, and Dex narrows his eyes at him. 

“You’re in my way,” he says. 

“Am I?” Derek asks, gesturing at the admittedly narrow clear margin between his feet and Dex’s workspace. Dex looks down at the gap between them, scowl deepening. 

“You’re a fucking asshole Nursey,” he says, and Derek fights the urge to grin again. 

“Rude,” he says instead, and Dex throws down his hammer with a growl. It clangs off the cement floor, loud enough that Derek jumps. Dex closes the distance between them in two steps, slamming into Derek so hard he bounces back against the washer. Derek makes a pained noise, but doesn’t do anything else as Dex crowds up into his space. Dex grabs Derek’s hips and, in a move that never fails to send a fission of heat down Derek’s spine, picks him up and shoves him back onto the top of the washer. 

“Shit,” Derek says, breath hitching, “Dex, you–” 

“Shut the fuck up Nursey,” Dex says, before dragging Derek’s head down to meet his own. Dex less kisses Derek than straight-up bites his lip, making Derek hiss and buck his hips forward against the other man. His hands fly up to grab at Dex’s shoulders. Dex doesn’t pause as he continues to worry at Derek’s lip, mixing hard bites with light nips and the press of his tongue inside Derek’s mouth, curling against Derek’s. Long fingers grab the front of Derek’s boxers, gripping his growing erection _hard_ , and Derek groans. Dropping his hands from Dex’s shoulders, he braces them against the flat top of the washer so that he can raise his hips, allowing Dex to pull his boxers down to his knees. Dex raises his hand to Derek’s mouth with an unspoken command, and Derek licks it, palm to fingertip, laving at the fingers as much as Dex will allow him. Predictably, Dex pulls his hand away faster than Derek would have liked. He drops his slightly wet hand back to Derek’s cock, and they crash back into a kiss that is all teeth and tongue and no finesse.

“Fuck,” Derek gasps into Dex’s mouth as Dex’s hand grips his dick uncomfortably tight, jerking up and down harshly. It is just this side of hurting, and Derek can’t help but groan again as Dex lowers his head to bite at Derek’s neck. 

“Mark,” he gasps out as Dex’s teeth sink into his skin, “Dex, shit, stop, you’re gonna leave a mark.” Dex pulls back, licking a long stripe over the bite and up the length of Derek’s neck. 

“No one’s here,” he whispers into Derek’s ear, voice rough. “We’re all alone Nursey, for two weeks, remember?” His voice is rough with arousal, and Derek can’t help but shiver. Dex nips at the lobe of Derek’s ear before going back to work on his earlier bite mark, worrying the spot on Derek's neck with tongue and teeth. His neck is throbbing, and he can already tell he is going to have a huge bruise. Derek can’t bring himself to care however, as Dex’s grip tightens on his cock. He thrusts up into Dex’s hand, groaning as the other man begins to jerk him off in earnest, quick, rough strokes that send arousal shooting through Derek’s entire body. He catches himself biting down on the noises that want to tear themselves from his throat before he remembers that they are alone in the Haus. He groans, _loud_ , with the next pass of Dex’s fingers over his cock, and Dex hums in satisfaction against the underside of Derek’s jaw. Between Dex’s teeth at his throat and the speed of his fingers against Derek’s cock, it isn’t long before Derek is tensing, pleasure surging through his body. 

“I’m gonna–” he says, and Dex raises his head to pull Derek into a bruising kiss as Derek comes, wet and messy, across his own stomach. Dex swallows down Derek’s moans, continuing to stroke him long after it stops feeling good. He stops, finally, when Derek manages to collect himself enough to shove him away. Dex stumbles back a couple of steps with the force of Derek’s push, almost tripping over a bottle of detergent. His eyes are dark with arousal as he looks at Derek, sitting on the washer with his boxers still around his knees, stomach covered with his own come. Derek pulls up his boxers, hopping down from the washer. 

“Nursey–” Dex starts, but before he can finish, Derek sinks to his knees in front of him, pulling down his jeans and briefs in one movement. “Fuck,” he says, eyes wide, and Derek swallows him down. 

Derek leaves Dex in the basement ten minutes later still gasping for breath, propped up against the dryer. 

He has to force himself not to look back at Dex, not to think about why it feels wrong to leave him down there alone like that, with the taste of his come still hot on the back of Derek's throat. He can’t stop himself from pressing his fingers to the raw spot on his throat, though, as he heads back upstairs, wooden stairs creaking under his feet. His lips feel hot and swollen, and he is pretty sure Dex actually managed to bruise his lower lip with his bites, the bastard. Derek doesn’t pause on the ground floor, continuing upstairs with the singular goal of getting into the shower and washing the drying come off of his stomach. He is walking past the mirror that hangs on the wall halfway up the stairs when he catches a strange movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see his own reflection staring back at him, such a mess that he is immediately distracted from whatever he thought he’d seen.

“Fuck,” he swears softly to himself, leaning in to get a better look at how swollen his lip is and– yup, it is bruised too, _fuck_. There is a fleck of white that he’d missed on his chin too, and he absentmindedly sticks out his tongue to lick it off. He makes a face at himself in the mirror before turning and continuing up the stairs. He _definitely_ needs a shower.

* * *

Getting to shove his cock down Derek’s throat only throws Dex off his renovation plan for a couple of hours. Derek eventually migrates all the way up to the attic to get away from the noise. He feels like he could choke on how thick the air is under the low wooden beams of the roof. Whatever chill might still have been lingering in the basement has completely disappeared from the attic, if it ever existed. The early afternoon sunlight beats down upon the Haus, lighting up the dust motes that swirl through the air. Sweat is dripping down Derek’s spine as he lies flat on his stomach on the wooden floorboards, resolutely ignoring the dirty clothes that had been shoved under the bottom bunk by someone. It smells like dust and boy, and he tries not to find the smell familiar and comforting. As he let his eyes slip shut, the only sound he can hear is a faint thudding, only recognizable as the noises of Dex’s construction projects because Derek already knows that is what it is. Letting out a relieved breath, Derek settles in, focusing on the blinking cursor of his sparsely populated Word document. 

Though he ends up getting so hot that he has to strip down to his boxers – and probably slightly dehydrated, as he isn’t willing to risk running into Dex to go downstairs for a water bottle – Derek has a good afternoon in the attic. By the time the sun has dipped below the windowsill, his word count has risen to just over three thousand, and he is feeling much more optimistic about his ability to reclaim his productive spring break back from Dex. Derek knows that he can always do exactly what Dex had insinuated when they’d first found out they would be alone in the Haus over the break. He can always go home. It doesn’t matter that his moms wouldn’t be there, really, he can still go home, have the apartment to himself, visit his friends. He doesn’t want to, however, and he isn’t sure if he is being petulant or justifiably defiant when he admits that he is staying mostly out of sheer stubborn refusal to capitulate to Dex. The Haus is his home too, after all, just as much as it is Dex’s, and Derek has every right to stay there for the break if he wants to. 

Derek doesn’t mean to fall asleep in the attic. Though he had stolen one of the guys’ pillow in the late afternoon to bunch up under his chin, and a blanket had long ago found it’s way under his body as he sprawled across the floor, he had no intention of sleeping up there. He was just up there to do work – he wasn’t actually so pissy that he wouldn’t go back and sleep in his and Dex’s shared room. He had been blinking sleepily for hours, too warm and tired after a long day, the bruise on his throat throbbing, but he had kept trying to write more anyways. He remembers thinking that he should go and make himself dinner soon.

He blinks awake sometime in the night, disoriented and groggy. He sits up, looking around himself, and breathing out a relieved sigh as his surroundings swim into focus and he realizes what happened. The room is lit with the grey, half-light glow of the middle of the night, and Derek yawns as he rubs at his eyes. He briefly contemplates staying up there the rest of the night, before acknowledging the ache that has already threaded up his spine from sleeping on the floor for a handful of hours. He sighs, then drops his hands from his eyes, opening them to look across the room.

Derek barely manages to stop himself from yelping, as he jumps back, and– there was nothing there. Derek blinks, and blinks again, before shaking his head at himself as he pushes to his feet. He hates the fuzzy false darkness of late night for exactly this reason. It plays tricks on your brain. For a second, he’d thought he’d seen someone – or, well, _something_ – crouched in the corner across from him, a dark shape with legs bent up over it’s head and long fingers splayed out across the ground. Obviously he hasn’t quite woken up completely, he thinks to himself as he stumbles, feet briefly tangling in the blanket on the floor. He kicks it towards the bunk beds, taking the time to pick up the pillow and lob it at the top bunk. Derek opens the door and stumbles downstairs, not bothering to look back.

* * *

“Where were you last night?” Dex asks, not turning away from the sink. Derek blinks slowly at his back, brain still foggy from how little sleep he’d gotten. 

“What?” he asks, and watches the way the muscles of Dex’s back tense under the thin fabric of his old high school hockey tee. There’s a hole on the shoulder that Derek always wants to stick his finger through. Dex doesn’t turn, but he does raise an arm, running a hand through his hair.

“You were out all night,” Dex finally says, and Derek frowns at him. He takes a drink of coffee rather than answering, hoping that the caffeine will somehow make Dex’s words make more sense. It doesn’t. 

“I wasn’t out,” he says, and that makes Dex turn around, a scowl twisting his features, hands gripping the counter behind him. 

“Don’t fucking lie. You got home at like four in the morning, you woke me up, fucking banging around.” Derek’s eyes widen in understanding, and he can’t help but laugh, taking another drink of his coffee. Dex’s hands tighten on the edge of the counter. 

“What, you worried about me?” Derek teases. 

“Fuck off,” Dex snaps, “like I give a shit. I just don’t want to keep getting woken up if you’re gonna be going out every night and–” Dex finally cuts himself off, a look on his face as if he had just revealed far more than he would have liked. 

“Jesus, you really that mad at the idea of me out getting my dick wet?” Derek asks, watching as Dex turns an interesting shade of red. “I’m just fucking with you dude,” he adds after a second’s pause, “I was up in the attic writing, I fell asleep by accident.” Dex snorts, scowling again. 

“Yeah right,” he says. Derek shrugs. 

“Whatever dude.” 

“She really ugly or something?” Dex asks, and Derek fights the urge to roll his eyes. Jesus, this guy is literally incapable of dropping anything. “That why you won’t tell me about her?” 

 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he says, “and that’s a pretty big assumption you’re making there.”

“What, that she’s ugly?”

“No, that it’d be a girl that I’m supposedly out hooking up with,” he says, raising an eyebrow. Dex’s mouth opens, then closes. 

“You’re not...” he finally says, before trailing off. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. It’s literally none of your business who I am or am not sleeping with.” Dex scowls, like he knows he can’t argue with Derek but he wants to anyways. Derek knows he shouldn’t keep talking, should just let the subject drop. But it’s so easy, with Dex, to just give him that little push...

“What, you want it to be your business? Worried that I’m out fucking other guys when you want to be the only one fucking me?”

“Fuck no,” Dex spits out, and okay, that kinda hurt a little bit to hear. Derek doesn’t let any of that show on his face though, instead just rolling his eyes and sighing as he turns back to his coffee. 

“Jesus Poindexter, calm down. Seriously, I was asleep in the attic.” He refuses to look back over at Dex, and eventually he hears the sound of running water, as Dex goes back to washing his dishes. The silence manages to keep all the way through Derek finishing his mug of coffee and Dex putting away the last of his dishes. Derek is just thinking about where he wants to escape to for the day when Dex turns back around to him. 

“Are you fucking anyone else though?” he blurts out, like it hurt him to ask, like it was pulled from him involuntarily. Derek does his best not to smirk. 

“What’s the matter Poindexter, you jealous?” Dex’s face twists, but Derek waves a hand at him before he can go off. “Chill dude, no, I haven’t fucked anyone else recently.”

“Since when?” Dex asks, and okay, now they’re getting into territory that Derek doesn’t really want to discuss, because then he’d have to admit something embarrassing like the fact that he hasn’t fucked anyone but Dex in months, and hasn’t really wanted to either. He shrugs instead, but that seems to be enough for Dex, who smirks back at him.

“That long huh?” he asks, pushing off the counter to cross the room, looming over Derek where he sits at the table. 

“No,” he says, convincing no one. Dex leans down, getting into Derek’s space, forcing Derek to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. 

“Can’t pick up?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Don’t want to pick up?” 

“No.”

“Nursey,” Dex says, fingers brushing the side of Derek’s neck. Derek fights the urge to shiver. 

“What?” Dex’s fingers suddenly tighten on Derek’s neck, pulling his head backwards.

“Don’t fucking lie,” he says, before closing the distance between them. Derek’s already bruised lip throbs in pain as Dex’s lips drag across his own before his tongue shoves its way into Derek’s mouth. Derek fights the urge to moan as Dex’s grip on his neck tightens, his other hand pushing back on Derek’s shoulder to get him at a better angle. The chair he’s sitting on moves, threatening to slide across the floor before two of the legs finally lift off the floor. Derek barely manages not to yelp as it totters underneath him, and Dex pulls back with a growl, dragging Derek with him. The chair smacks back down onto all four legs as Derek stumbles to his feet. 

“Dex,” he says, but the other man ignores him, bending down slightly before wrapping his arms around Derek and lifting him up. “Fuck, Dex!” Derek yelps, grabbing at the other man’s shoulders for balance. Dex doesn’t hold him up for long though, Derek’s ass bouncing off the hard surface of the kitchen table a moment later. “Jesus fuck Dex,” he complains, barely catching a glimpse of Dex’s stupid shit-eating grin before the other man is diving back in for another bruising kiss. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” Dex says, and Derek shudders. 

“Fuck, Dex,” he says, pushing at the open front of Dex’s flannel, trying to get the shirt off of the other man. Dex refuses to cooperate, instead reaching down to grab the bottom edge of Derek’s t-shirt. Their mouths separate only as long as it takes for Dex to pull Derek’s shirt over his head before they are meeting again in a clash of teeth and tongue. Dex bites down on the same spot he’d bruised the day before, the bastard, and Derek’s dick twitches in his sweatpants. He could probably come from Dex biting him alone, not that he’d ever tell the other man that. Instead, he just moans, loudly, as Dex moves his teeth from Derek’s lip to his collarbone. Dex sucks a mark there as he tugs at the top of Derek’s sweats. Derek awkwardly shuffles on the table until Dex manages to pull them out from underneath him. Between the two of them, they manage to get them completely off one leg, but don’t quite manage the second, leaving the pants hanging off Derek’s foot as Dex’s hand moves to grab Derek’s cock. Derek groans at the contact, but it doesn’t last long before Dex is moving his hand down, forcing Derek to lean back so that he can press the dry pad of his finger against Derek’s hole. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Derek says, and Dex leaves his finger there for another long second, a steady pressure that sends heat shooting through Derek’s stomach, before he finally pulls his hand away. He nips at Derek’s shoulder a final time before raising his head and looking around the kitchen. 

“Where’s the condom jar?” he asks, and Derek all but groans in frustration. Luckily, Bitty is nothing if not consistent, and the jar is on the shelf above the fridge where it always eventually returns to. Derek isn’t sure who is keeping it stocked now that Shitty has moved out, all he knows is that he hasn’t had to buy condoms yet this year or even worry about whether or not he has one, a fact he is never as grateful for as when Dex is looking at him the way he is right now. His eyes are predatory as he walks back across the kitchen, a packet of lube and a condom in hand, and Derek swallows around the arousal that swells thick in his throat. The condom goes onto the table next to him as the lube is squeezed messily across Dex’s fingers, and fuck, he’s going to get it all over the table, he’s going to get it all over _Derek_.

Though he tries not to, Derek can’t help but groan at the first touch of Dex’s lube-covered fingers against the tight furl of his hole. Dex doesn’t push inside him at first, because of course he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps running his fingers around where Derek wants them the most, teasing the skin around his hole but never pushing inside. He keeps it up until Derek feels like he might go crazy with it, and then he pushes two inside without warning. Derek lets out a noise somewhere between pain and pleasure, head dropping backwards as his hips involuntarily hitch into the feeling. 

“Yeah?” Dex asks, and Derek nods, mouth falling open as he breathes in short little pants. His eyes are squeezed shut but he doesn’t jump when Dex’s teeth graze his jaw. Dex still waits a moment longer before he continues to push his fingers inside of Derek, working them into him until finally his hand is flush with Derek’s body and Derek is panting. He has to drop down from being braced on his palms to his elbows, giving both Dex better access to his ass and relief to his own shaking arms. His cock is hard against his stomach and he knows that if he looks down he’ll be able to see how wet he already is just from Dex shoving in two of his fingers at once like a fucking douchbag. Derek kind of hates himself for how hot he finds that, and he grinds back on Dex’s hand. 

“C’mon,” he says, and Dex laughs at him but still obeys, so Derek doesn’t really care. He pulls his fingers out until only the tips are still inside of Derek before shoving them back inside of him. Derek can’t help the noise that falls from his lips, nor the ones after it as Dex begins to finger him. The slide of Dex’s fingers inside of him is both too much and not enough and _god_ but Derek just wants to choke on Dex’s dick. Wants him to fuck him so hard he can feel it for the rest of the break. Wants his cock so far up his ass he can _taste_ him. The pads of Dex’s fingers, rough with home repairs and hockey, drag over Derek’s prostate and his entire body jerks as a groan is torn from his throat. He’s shoving back onto Dex’s fingers just as fast and as rough as Dex is stuffing them inside of him, but it still isn’t enough. 

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” Dex says, and Derek’s done waiting. Opening his eyes, he grabs the discarded condom off of the table, ripping open the packaging. Dex’s eyes are wide when Derek looks up at him, pupils blown with arousal. He doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of Derek’s ass though, even as Derek reaches forward and shoves Dex's sweatpants down just far enough for Derek to pull his hard dick out and roll the condom down onto it. 

“C’mon,” he says, hooking a leg around Dex’s back and pulling him in closer towards Derek. Dex goes, but only one step before he stops again, continuing to fuck Derek with his fingers but making no moves to change out his fingers for his cock. Derek almost growls in frustration. “Fuck me, you piece of shit,” Derek says, and Dex shoves his fingers back inside Derek, _hard _. Derek nearly bites his tongue.__

__“Watch it,” Dex growls, but still pulls his fingers out and finally takes ahold of his own cock, lining it up with Derek’s hole. Derek barely has time to feel the emptiness inside of him, begging to be filled, before Dex is pushing inside of him. He’s thicker than his fingers were and Derek lets himself fall backwards completely, shoulders hitting the table as his other leg moves to join the first, wrapping around Dex and coaxing him closer._ _

__Dex moves forward slowly, filling Derek up until he thinks that there can’t be any more to go, and then he fills him up some more. He forgets, somehow, every time just how good Dex feels inside of him, how huge and hot and hard his dick is as it slides into Derek. When Dex finally bottoms out, hips flush to Derek’s ass, both men just stay there for a moment, panting for breath as they both adjust to the feeling of Dex’s cock inside of Derek. Finally, just when Derek’s beginning to feel desperate enough to beg for it, Dex moves. The first drag of his cock out of Derek has Derek groaning. He moves so, so painfully slow as he pulls his dick out until just the tip remains inside of Derek’s ass. After that, however, he doesn’t hold back. Dex slams back into Derek and Derek can’t help but shout as the entire thick length of Dex’s cock shoves back inside of him._ _

__Dex sets a furious pace, thrusting in and out of Derek and neither of them are going to last long at this rate but Derek. Just doesn’t care. Dex’s cock feels so good inside of him, his hips smacking against Derek’s ass with every thrust. He’s not quite nailing Derek’s prostate, hitting it only every third or fourth strokes, but even that is enough to leave Derek’s hands scrabbling for something to hold on to. He finally settles on the edge of the table, hands white-knuckling it as he holds on and Dex shoves in and out of him. Derek can’t help but think about what they must look like, Derek completely naked except for the sweatpants stubbornly clinging to his one leg, Dex completely clothed except for where his pants have been tugged down to release his cock. The kitchen is silent except for the sound of their frantic breathing, the slick sound of Dex’s cock sliding in and out of Derek’s hole, the fleshy smack of Dex’s hips against Derek’s ass. It’s obscene, all of it, and Derek reaches for his cock. He’s barely got his fingers on it before Dex is swatting his hand away._ _

__“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back as Dex shifts and begins fucking him harder. Derek feels every thrust in his whole body and he wants to touch himself so bad that he can’t help the small whine that escapes when he reaches downwards and is again swatted away. His cock is drooling all over his abs and he wants to _come_ , can feel the need building in his spine. His breath is being punched out of him, little grunts that make heat rise to his face._ _

__“Come for me,” Dex says, and Derek almost growls at him. “Come for me Derek, come on my fucking cock, I know you like it, know you love it when I fuck you like this.” Derek groans, head thunking back._ _

__“Please, Dex,” he says, and Dex’s cock jerks inside of him. “Just let me touch– ah! Let me touch myself man, this isn’t porn.”_ _

__“No,” Dex says, and Derek is honestly going to fucking deck him, if he could get enough feeling to his limbs to push himself upwards. Instead, he just slides up and down the table with the force of Dex’s thrusts, sweat slicking the way, and Jesus, Bitty would be pissed if he knew they were doing this on the kitchen table. Derek might have to buy him some of that fancy baking chocolate just so he can look him in the face again later. And then Derek isn't thinking about Bitty anymore because Dex has found a better angle, hitting Derek’s prostate almost every thrust and he feels like he might shake apart with the pleasure twisting through his limbs. His cock is twitching against his stomach and he can’t believe that Dex hasn’t come yet, that his cock is still slamming in and out of Derek’s hole. He’s so stretched out and it feels amazing every time Dex’s cock slides all the way back inside him, all the way to the base._ _

__“Come on my cock,” Dex says, and it takes Derek a second to remember what they were talking about._ _

__“Jesus I– I can’t just–,” Derek says, except that apparently he can, because the next thing he knows he is tossing his head back and shouting as he comes, dick twitching and spurting messily across his abs._ _

__“Oh, oh fuck, Derek, Jesus, you–” Dex says, and Derek feels his dick jerk inside of him as Dex comes._ _

__“Oh my god,” Derek says, staring up at the ceiling. Dex doesn’t say anything, but Derek can hear him breathing, just as out of breath as Derek is. They stay like that for a long moment before Dex finally pulls back, Derek wincing as he pulls out his softening cock out._ _

__Dex doesn’t say anything as he ties up the condom, tossing it into the garbage under the sink. Derek props himself back on his elbows just in time to meet Dex’s eyes as he glances over at Derek. Dex flushes, and all but runs out of the room. There’s the sound of a distant door slamming shut, and then silence._ _

__Derek stares after him, naked on the kitchen table with sweat and come drying on his skin. He tries not to think about the confused tangle of emotions swirling in his chest as he hops down from the table, sucking in a sharp breath at the soreness radiating from his ass. He cleans up, then walks upstairs and stares at the closed door to his and Derek’s room. He thinks about knocking, thinks about just going inside, but in the end does neither, just heads over to the bathroom in the hallway. A shower sounds perfect for his sore muscles, and if he doesn’t have to think about Dex for at least half an hour, all the better. He thinks he sees something out of the corner of his eye as he pushes open the door to the bathroom, but when he turns his head the door is as firmly shut as it was before, and there’s nothing else in the hallway. Derek shakes his head at himself, wondering what he’d even been hoping for as he steps inside the bathroom. If he sees any other movement out of the corner of his eye, he ignores it._ _

__It won’t be Dex anyways._ _


	2. I know who I am when I'm alone

Derek jerks awake to the sound of his phone vibrating across the wooden top of the coffee table, King Kunta playing softly. He moans, rolling onto his side and almost off of the couch as he rubs his eyes. He lays there for a second with his eyes shut, taking slow breaths as the sound of his phone grating across his already worn nerves. He’s sticky with sweat and feels like he should be out of breath, the way the fear of his dream is still sitting in his throat. He’s not usually one for nightmares, but lately… there had been something, in the dark of his dream. 

He’d been in a hallway, so much like the hallway upstairs in the Haus but just a little bit off, the wallpaper just a little too worn, the floor just a little too soft under his feet. He tried to step forward and staggered, the ground lower than it should be, sloping gently downwards to the end of the hallway, where it waited for him. It was patience, it was silence. Even in the dream, he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around what it was, and it was even more difficult now that he was awake, chasing after the fading threads of the dream. It had filled the space at the end of the hallway, where the door to the stairway was in reality. A shifting indistinct mass, huge and looming. It had a texture like scales, or fur, or smoke, and long, clawed hands that dragged on the ground, or maybe hooves, scarring the floorboards as they pawed at the floor. He’d taken a step forward, then another, unable to stop his feet, his slow movement towards the thing waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

And then… Derek tries to remember more, but Kendrick is rapping about how he runs the game and Derek loses the dream, the memory slipping from his mind like smoke, dissipating into nothing. He swallows, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. The dream is fading from his mind, faster and faster the longer he is awake, but the discontent of it has settled into his bones, making a home there. He rolls his shoulders, but can’t quite shake the feeling of wrongness that twists his stomach. He feels afraid and nauseous and utterly unable to do anything about either. 

Taking a deep breath, he tries to shove it all away from him as he reaches out and smacks the table a couple of times before he finally manages to close his fingers around his phone. He glances at the screen, before thumbing over the answer icon. He isn’t sure if what he mumbles into the phone can actually be categorized as words, but luckily his moms have had lots of practice interpreting his half-asleep words.

“Hey habiibii.” His mother’s voice is crackly with distance, but the affection in her words is as clear as if she was in the room with him. Her voice is like a hot water bottle in winter and Derek finds himself finally relaxing into the couch. “How is your vacation going? I didn’t wake you did I?” 

“Hey mama,” he mumbles. “My break’s going good, just doing stuff for school. Hanging out with Dex.” He makes a face at himself for the lie, but he knows it doesn’t show in his voice. “How’s your trip going? How’s Teita?” 

“Oh, she’s doing good, you know your Teita.” He lets his eyes slide shut as the cheerful sound of his mama’s voice washes over him, sweeping away the last lingering tendrils of fear. He finds himself smiling as she shares the news of the trouble his Teita had stirred up with all the other local grandmothers. It seems like every time they talk the woman has started a new feud with yet another neighbour. 

“Your mom says hi, by the way,” his mama eventually says, and Derek hears the faint sound of his mom shouting ‘hi sweetheart!’. He grins, then hears the sound of Dex coming down the stairs. His stomach twists, and he interrupts his mama mid-sentence.

“Sorry mama, I gotta go.”

“Of course, of course! Have fun with Dex. Are you skating today?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, meeting Dex’s eyes as the other man pauses at the end of the couch, looking down at Derek. His face is doing something complicated and Derek just doesn’t have the energy to try and understand it. “Probably,” he says, instead.

“Love you habibii.”

“Love you too.” Derek lets the phone fall to his chest. 

“Your moms?” Dex asks, expression still inscrutable.

“Yeah,” Derek says. Dex hesitates for a second, looking uncomfortable, and Derek speaks again before he can say whatever it is that has put that expression on his face. Whatever it is, Derek doesn’t want to hear it. “Wanna go skating?” The relief that washes across Dex’s face makes Derek’s stomach twist up in knots, but he ignores it the same way he ignores most things when it comes to Dex. Derek rolls up off the couch, heading upstairs as Dex heads into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder just as Dex walks into the other room, catching a glimpse of red hair, before turning back around. He looks up the stairs, and it’s as his eyes are still travelling up the steps that he becomes aware that there is something at the top of the steps. Something looking down at him, he can feel the weight of its gaze on him and– 

Derek’s eyes finally reach the top of the stairs and it’s empty. There’s nothing there, nothing looking down at him, except that his hands are shaking and he can feel the sweat beading at his hairline. He shakes his head as if to dislodge the fear that had sunk itself into his stomach, but it doesn’t stop his heart beat from picking up as he raises his foot and steps onto the first step of the staircase, the old wood groaning in protest. Derek heads up the stairs, taking the last couple of steps with his heart in his throat but there’s nothing in the hallway when he reaches the top of the stairs either, just a sock abandoned on the floor halfway down the hall, the same worn wooden floors and shitty wallpaper that had been there the day before, nothing out of place. 

“Jesus,” Derek says, let out a slow, shaky breath, running his hand over his face. He shakes his head at himself. Clearly, he needs to sleep more. 

In their room, he throws on some clothes, and grabs his bag before heading back downstairs. He passes Dex on his way into the kitchen, the other man avoiding looking at him as he brushes past him, and Derek wonders if this is what drowning feels like. He can’t breath, but he does his best to ignore that as he heads over to the fridge, pulling out some leftover halal sausages. He eats them quickly, over the sink, not bothering to warm them as he stares blankly at the yard outside of the window. The glass is old and dirty and distorts the view of the yard on the best of days. It transforms the world into something grey and smudged, like God has rubbed his thumb over reality, smearing people and houses alike. Derek traces the twist of the tree in the front yard with his eyes and wonders if one day he won’t just leave the Haus to find the world stuck that way. He shakes himself out of his strange train of thought at the sound of Dex pounding back down the stairs. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. _This is fine_ , he tells himself. _You’re fine._

Opening his eyes, Derek grabs two bananas and meets Dex in the front hallway, handing him one of the bananas, and they walk to Faber in silence. Derek is grateful for the moment of peace between them, savouring the way the morning air chills his lungs and bites at his nose. Outside, it feels easier to shake off the weird feelings that have been following him all morning. The last couple of days, really. He didn’t realize how bad it was until he’d left the Haus. He didn’t know where it had come from, this strange feeling of being watched, but he was pretty sure it could be blamed on the fucking nightmares he’d been having. With the sun shining down on him and Dex’s shoulder occasionally knocking into his own however, it was easy for the tension that had wound its way around his spine to begin to unwind itself. His feet dragged along the ground, kicking up gravel and sending it scattering in front of him, and Derek felt his lungs open up like a flower blooming. 

The smell of the locker room at Faber was so familiar it almost felt like a homecoming as Derek stripped off his clothing. He couldn’t help but glance over at Dex, the other man’s back to him. The freckles on his back were a star chart that Derek couldn’t understand, a strange, shifting map that he still hadn’t learned how to read. Derek wonders if that was why he couldn’t ever manage to trace the path of Dex’s thoughts. Dex looks over his shoulder, probably sensing Derek’s eyes on him, and Derek jerks his gaze away before Dex has the chance to catch his eyes. They finish dressing in a thickening silence, Derek determined to keep his eyes to himself. He just wants to skate, he tells himself. That is all he wants to do. His resolve lasts until he his blade hits the ice and then its no longer necessary because there is no other thought than the smooth slide of the blade of his skates over ice. The familiar sound of metal cutting ice, the blur of Dex moving in tandem with him as they slowly circled the rink, were just as much of a homecoming as the dressing room had been. Derek closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look over at Dex, grinning when he caught the other man’s eyes.

“Race you,” he said, and took off, ignoring Dex cursing as he tried to catch up with him. Derek was laughing, the cold biting at the back of his throat as he flew over the ice. There was nothing like this, nothing like being here on the ice, the stands rising up dim and empty around them, the ice lit up like a mirror by the sun streaming in through Faber’s giant windows. It was the feeling Derek had fell in love with when he was two years old and his mama took him Rockefeller for the first time, a feeling he never wanted to go away. 

The smack of Dex’s hand against his shoulder was jarring, and Derek spun to see the other man grinning at him, the sun lighting his eyes up amber, catching his hair and making him hard to look at. 

“Got you,” Dex said, and took off in the opposite direction. 

“I said race, not fucking tag,” Derek shouted, but still took off after him, thighs burning as he pushed himself faster and faster, flying across the ice. It felt wrong to be on the ice without any pads, with out his helmet or stick, but without their weight he felt like he was almost flying, skates shearing the ice as he drove himself forward. He was gaining on Dex, only a meter away, when the other man glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening as he saw how close Derek had come to him. 

“Fuck,” the other man bit out, before stepping over his feet into a sharp turn. 

“Jesus,” Derek said, coming to a stop instead, barely managing to stop himself from running into the boards. Dex started laughing, and when Derek looked up he saw the other man skating backwards away from him, towards the far side of the rink. 

“Nice edges Nurse,” he chirped, and Derek rolled his eyes. As if Dex hadn’t slammed into Wicks at practice last week, skidding on his knees across the ice. Dex was still grinning at him though, arms spread out triumphantly as he continued to propel himself backwards across the rink. Derek bit his lip, before digging his skates in, sending himself back into motion. The pause had given his lungs time to catch up with him, and he could feel his breaths coming shorter as he picked his speed back up. Dex had finally turned around, laughing as he switched into lazy loops. Derek passed him at the blue line, Dex sarcastically saluting him as Derek shot past him. Derek stepped down on the urge to turn back and say something back to him, instead focusing in on his skating. This might not be practice, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t run some drills of his own while they were there anyways. He began his turn as he entered the defensive zone, curling around the back of the goal-less crease, and setting back across the ice. Dex was next to the boards now, stretching out his legs and watching Derek. Derek couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel Dex’s eyes on him anyways, hot and heavy and nothing that Derek wanted to think about right now. He just wanted to feel the ice beneath his feet and the cold in his lungs, so he focused forward, on the way the sunlight cut through the empty air of the arena, the way the stands were an empty shadowed mass ushering him forward. 

“You’re not beating McDavid anytime soon,” Dex shouted, but Derek ignored him, focusing on lengthening his stride, on keeping his edges as he turned again at the far side of the rink, cutting across the crease a bit this time as he turned to do it again. Dex let him make it back to the other side of the rink before he shouted at him again. “Seriously dude, this isn’t bag skate, chill out.” He wasn’t wrong, but still, there was something that was satisfying about how breathing now came difficult, air stuttering and struggling its way out of his lungs as his legs protested another turn around the empty crease. He fixed his eyes on the opposite end of the rink and shot forward. 

He crossed the blue line before he noticed it. 

Dex was shouting something at him again but Derek ignored him, frowning down at the shifting pool of darkness on the far end of the rink. He glanced up but there was no cloud in the sky outside of the rink, nothing casting a shadow. He looked back down as he crossed the centre line and he was only a handful of strides away from it now. It looked like there was something, a shadow, under the ice, what–

It exploded upwards, and Derek choked on the frozen air inside his lungs as it rose above him, a tidal wave of roiling darkness cresting far above him. He leaned backwards, frantically trying to keep his eyes on the top of the darkness arching above him and his skates went out from underneath him. He hit the ice with a spray of snow, unable to stop himself or even slow himself down as he skidded towards the black thing bubbling and twisting in front of him. He curled his hands over his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and then his back was exploding in pain as he slammed into the boards. The air was forced from his lungs as his eyes flew open in pained surprise. 

The rink was empty except for a shouting Dex racing towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still isn't finished but I've been writing pretty steadily for a week now so I feel good about starting to post chapters again. Still haven't figured out how this whole thing is going to end, but hey, sounds like a problem for future-me!
> 
> Not super related, but watching the [all-star weekend's fastest skating competition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2n80rNftFaY&t=1856s) will give you a very good idea of how little time it takes to get from one end of the rink to the other. Also McDavid is so fast it is just absurd and the Oilers don't deserve him.
> 
> Given Nursey's size and build I'm imaging his defensive style to be more in line with that of like, Kasperi Kapanen or Travis Dermott, than that of a Ron Hainsey or Polak (lmaooooooo). 
> 
> (me @ me: you could use examples that aren't on the current leafs roster) (me: no)


	3. Honey, make this easy

“Dude I still can’t believe you did that,” Dex said as they walked up the steps of the Haus, the way his hand hovered awkwardly behind Derek’s back belying the weakly chirping tone of his voice. For his part, Derek just winced as his muscles protested the movement, one arm curled protectively around his stomach. Dex had wanted him to go to the hospital, or at least call one of the trainers, but Derek had talked him down. He’d injured himself enough times, to know that there wasn’t anything broken, no damage to his bones that could be considered permanent. Besides, it had been hard enough shrugging off Dex’s questions about what had happened, Derek didn’t want to have to go through it again with a whole slew of other people. He was sure the trainers might ask more probing questions than ‘the fuck bro, did you forget how to skate?’. Dex might have been disbelieving of his stuttered explanation about sunlight in his eyes and losing his balance, but at least he hadn’t challenged Derek on it. 

God, he didn’t know what the fuck he would have told him if he had, he thought, wincing again as he leaned against the wall by the door as Dex struggled with the keys, cursing under his breath. He’d almost asked Dex, in that moment, with pain fogging his brain, if he’d seen it, whatever it was. He’d managed to stop himself just in time though. The questions Dex was asking – half chirps, half genuine worry – made it clear he hadn’t, anyways. They’d made their way back to the dressing room, moving slowly as Derek’s entire body protested the movement. Dex had had to unlace Derek’s skates for him, Derek sitting on the bench shaking with fear and adrenaline and the shock of his fall. His fingers still hadn’t stopped trembling. 

Finally managing to get the door unlocked, Dex ushered Derek inside, leading him over to the couch. Derek sank down onto the worn fabric with a groan. With a mumbled comment about getting a water bottle and some painkillers, Dex left the room, leaving Derek to tip his head backwards, closing his eyes as he let out a long breath. Not for the first time since Dex had helped him to his feet, back hot with the pain of his fall, he wondered if he was losing his mind. He couldn’t figure out what it could have been, what he saw. There was no way it– it was real. Whatever it had been. It had probably been that he was too tired, or hadn’t eaten enough, or… the sun _had_ gotten in his eyes, or… Derek opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. 

He didn’t know. He had no idea what it could have been, what could have caused him to see it. 

Maybe he really was losing his mind. 

“I could only find ibuprofen,” Dex was saying as he came thudding down the stairs, “but they’re the gel kind.” 

“Whatever man, as long as they work,” Derek said, speaking on autopilot as he sat up and accepted the pills Dex tipped into his palm, taking the water bottle he was holding out with his other hand. He’d already taken the lid off, and Derek was struck by a strange mix of annoyance and affection as he swallowed down the medication. “Thanks,” he said, belatedly, and Dex shrugged. 

“Just don’t try and fucking kill yourself by hitting the boards like that again, okay?” Dex said, voice filled with something Derek was too tired and hurt to try and interpret. Instead, he just forced a smile onto his face. 

“Fuck off man,” he said with a laugh that hopefully only sounded strangled to his own ears. Dex just rolled his eyes in reply, so he figured he’d probably gotten away with it. 

“Can I… can I do– do you need anything else?” Dex asked, nose wrinkling with discomfort as he shifted from foot to foot. Derek shook his head. 

“Nah, I’m just gonna sleep. Maybe take a bath first. Mind if I steal your bed? I don’t want to have to try and climb into the top bunk.” Dex shook his head. 

“Yeah man, that’s fine. I’ll… I’ll just go change the sheets.” 

“Chill,” Derek said, watching as Dex practically ran back out of the room. He waited until he could hear him banging around in the hallway upstairs before he leveraged himself to his feet and headed up the stairs, water bottle dangling perilously between his fingers. Without Dex there to see, he didn’t bother to try and hide the wince that twisted his face as the muscles across his ribs and legs expanded and contracted with every step. Just because it hadn’t been worth getting a trainer, or going to the hospital, didn’t mean that the fall hadn’t hurt like a _motherfucker_. Derek was going to have some pretty spectacular bruises, which, unlike the ones Dex gave him, probably wouldn’t fade by the time the rest of the team returned after the break. God, he hoped Dex didn’t tell Bitty about the fall. 

Heading into their room, Derek glanced at Dex, but he was preoccupied, frowning down at the bed as he carefully tucked the fitted sheet under the mattress. Derek turned away to grab a shirt, boxers, and sweatpants from the drawer. Despite himself, he glanced at Dex again before heading into the bathroom, but the other man was once again looking away from Derek. He didn’t know if it was deliberate or not. He closed his eyes briefly, exhausted with the whole situation, before stepping into the bathroom, shutting the door carefully behind himself. 

Derek did his best not to think of anything at all as he turned on the taps, watching them sputter to life with a groan of protest from the old pipes. The steam of the bath was soothing on his face, and the smell of epsom salts as familiar as the feel of ice beneath his skates. Stripping naked, he had to twist awkwardly to see his back in the mirror, and couldn’t help the hiss of indrawn breath when he saw it. Mottled with bruises, there was also a huge scrape along the back of his shoulder, like road rash, that he hadn’t realized was there – the blood lost on the black of his underarmour and the overwhelming throb of the bruises covering his back. His mind conjured, unbidden, the sight of that wave of black rising above him, bubbling and smooth, and he swallowed down on a sudden wave of nausea. He turned so he could look in the mirror properly, taking in the circles under his eyes. 

_It’s just stress,_ he thought to himself, _nothing else. Stress and lack of sleep._ His hand rose almost of its own accord, reaching over his shoulder to push into one of the bruises staining his shoulder blade. The pain was a balm to his fear and he breathed in and out slowly, letting his gaze fall from his own haunted reflection to stare at the grip of his knuckles on the edge of the sink. He didn’t look back up as he turned and stepped across the bathroom, into the water that now filled the tub. The slip of the water over his sore muscles almost made him moan, and he sank in until the water covered his ears, then his entire face. The warmth pressed in on him, and he felt himself finally relax. 

There was nothing to be afraid of here.

* * *

Derek and Dex mostly avoided each other the next day. It seemed like Dex was making some effort to be quieter in his repairs, but maybe that was just Derek projecting. For his part, Derek spent most of the day lying in Dex’s bed, reading and trying to ignore the way the sheets he was lying on, despite being freshly cleaned, somehow still smelled like the familiar combination of Dex’s cologne and shampoo. The only time he left the room all day was to go to the bathroom and to wince his way downstairs to grab food, and it wasn’t really a surprise to him when he fell asleep mid-afternoon, waking up disoriented and confused after the sun had set. 

“Fuck,” he said, rubbing at his eyes and turning to search for his phone and check the time. Instead, his eyes caught on the sight of Dex standing above him, staring down at him, and his heart leapt into his throat. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” he said, jumping. “Dex, what the _fuck_ man, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

“Sorry,” Dex said, his voice sounding strange, before he crawled in on top of Derek, forcing him to lie back down. 

“Dude there is so not enough space in here fo–” Derek started, before Dex cut him off by pressing his lips against his. Derek gave into the motion without thought, parting his lips to let Dex’s tongue in, breathing in the soft moan Dex let out as their mouths slid together. Dex’s hands pressed into the pillow on either side of Derek’s head, boxing him in, keeping him in place. Not that Derek was trying to get away as his hands rose of their own accord to cup the jut of Dex’s hip bones, drawing him down, drawing him closer. It wasn’t until Dex rolled his hips down against Derek’s, pressing their dicks together, that Derek remembered himself. 

It still took another minute before Derek was able to convince himself to pull back. Dex made a whining noise at the loss of Derek’s mouth that made Derek’s dick jerk, heat swirling faster and faster through his stomach. He made himself speak anyways.

“Seriously Dex, what the fuck?” Dex tried to lean back again, recapture Derek’s mouth, but Derek moved his hands to Dex’s shoulders and refused to bend. “Seriously dude,” he repeated, “you’re kinda freaking me out here.” Which wasn’t a lie, even if other things were quickly beginning to pull Derek’s attention away from Dex being fucking weird – things like Dex’s dick, now hard and heavy and rocking softly against Derek’s thigh as Dex moved around on top of him. It looked like Dex was going to try and avoid the question again before he suddenly let out a long sigh, tension sliding into his shoulders as his face twisted. 

“I just…” he started, before breaking off. His eyes flicked over Derek’s face, mouth opening and shutting, before he suddenly tipped forward, pressing his face into Derek’s neck. His breath was hot against the skin just below Derek’s ear when he spoke again. “I can’t stop thinking about it. How fast you were going, how fucking still you were Nursey, after you hit the boards.” Dex’s voice breaks on his name and Derek sucks in a sharp breath, emotions a confused swirl of warmth behind his collarbone. “For a minute I thought…” Dex says against his neck, so quietly that Derek barely catches it.

“Hey,” he says, softly, not sure what he’s going to say, but then Dex is suddenly back in front of him, pressing his lips against Derek’s so hard it hurts. 

“Shut up,” Dex says against Derek’s mouth, his lips barely brushing against Derek’s. Derek makes a displeased noise, opens his mouth, but Dex just presses his back down, kissing him deeper, harder, until Derek is dizzy with it. 

“Please,” Dex says, “please.” 

“Yeah, yes,” Derek says, not sure what he’s even agreeing to. He wants to stop, wants to go back and ask Dex again why this is happening, but he also isn’t sure he wants to know the answer to that question, if Dex would even answer it. If he didn’t just run away, and Derek feels the chill of the threat of Dex leaving him now in his bones. Besides, Dex is pressing his fingers against Derek’s chest, his stomach, reaching down to cup his hardening dick, and Derek can’t think of anything else as his hips buck upwards. Derek moans into Dex’s mouth, and it’s Dex’s turn to chant agreements under his breath as he strips Derek of his shirt. He pauses, then climbs off of Derek, ducking out from under the overhang of the bunk bed to pull his own shirt over his head. He keeps eye contact with Derek as he strips off his sweatpants. Derek’s entire body heats with the attention, the intensity of Dex’s gaze upon him as he kicks off his own pants, not bothering to even sit up as he slides them off his hips. Dex’s gaze lands of Derek’s half-hard dick, and he licks his lips and _fuck_ but Derek wishes that he didn’t affect him the way he does. Dex climbs back on top of him, and Derek exhales heavily at the feeling of skin against skin as the other man settles back into the narrow space of the bunk. His entire body radiates heat, and Derek wants to sink into him. He grabs the back of Dex’s head and the other man goes easily, lips meeting lips as his arms once again box Derek in, making him feel surrounded. Making him feel safe. 

“What is it?” Dex asks, voice soft, barely pulling back, and Derek realizes that he must have made some sort of noise. Derek hesitates, but in the darkness, in the hot, narrow space between them, he feels like he would cut himself open on a lie. 

“You make me feel safe,” he says instead, so quiet he isn't sure Dex will even hear it. Dex doesn’t ask him to repeat himself however. Instead, his eyes widen as he stares down at Derek for a long moment, until Derek is nearly crawling out of his skin waiting for a reaction. Instead, he breaks the stare to look down Derek’s body, fingertips ghosting down Derek’s side, across the bruises that that have crept around his side from his back. His fingers are cool against Derek’s skin, the pain of the bruises a distant whisper that still sends a shiver down his entire body as Dex’s fingers press softly into them. Derek stares up at Dex, the other man’s gaze fixed on the path his own fingers are drawing up and down Derek’s ribs. When he looks back up at Derek, his eyes are filled with something that Derek thinks he would choke on to name. Dex doesn’t say anything, just leans back in for a kiss, his hand sliding up to rest against Derek’s chest, over his heart, and Derek is burning up, he’s dizzy with it. He rolls his hips up, as if lust will somehow drown out the feelings that threaten to send tears spilling down his cheeks. Dex moans softly against his cheek, and Derek sinks into the noise. 

Derek turns his head, and Dex tucks his face back into the space between Derek’s neck and his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the edge of his jawbone as Derek fumbles through the drawer of the bedside table until his fingers finally manage to close around the lube. He drops it on the bed, and Dex draws back. The wooden slats of the top bunk above their heads don’t allow him to sit up completely, so he is still hunched over Derek, still looking at him with an intensity that twists in Derek’s stomach as he grabs ahold of Derek’s legs. He rearranged them carefully, forcefully, until Derek’s legs are slung over his powerful thighs, all of him open and vulnerable to Dex as he squeezes lube onto his fingers. Derek can’t manage to pull a full breath into his lungs as Dex rubs his fingers together, warming up the lube before sliding his hand down between Derek’s thighs. 

Even knowing it’s coming, Derek can’t help but gasp at the press of the pad of Dex’s finger against his hole. Dex rubs slow circles against the skin there and Derek’s breath catches in his throat. He finds his entire world narrowing to the anticipation snaking through his stomach, anticipation of when Dex will press into him, his muscles clenching and releasing as he waits, as Dex teases him. Derek expects him to bow back over him, to pick back up kissing him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays hunched over Derek, a looming presence in the shadows above him. His eyes are dark and Derek can barely breath with the weight of them on him. The longer he waits, rubbing his finger against Derek over and over again without pressing in, the more the tension in the air threatens to choke him. There is something heavy in the air between them and Derek can’t help but feel that this is different than every other time they’ve had sex. That when Dex presses inside of him, it will shatter something between them, and there is no knowing how it will rebuild itself. It is terrifying and electric and Derek can hardly bear it.

“Please,” he whispers, almost without meaning to but unable to hold it back anymore. Dex doesn’t respond, just keeps staring down at him until a whimper claws itself loose from Derek’s throat and then he finally, _finally_ slides his finger into Derek. Only one finger inside of him, and Derek already feels it in his lungs. He doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings Dex’s gaze is digging from his chest. Dex’s finger is callus rough and he moves it so slowly that he might as well not be moving it at all, in and out and Derek doesn’t realize that he’s gnawing on his lip until Dex uses the thumb of his free hand to rub across it. He keeps his thumb there, the weight of it against Derek’s lower lip a counterpoint to the press of his other finger inside of him. Derek flicks out his tongue without thinking about it, tastes soap and sweat on Dex’s thumb as he groans. Dex adds a second finger without warning, and Derek’s stomach is tight with want and fear and things that he doesn't dare name. Dex rubs his thumb across Derek’s lip a couple of times before sliding it inside, hooking it down and forcing Derek’s jaw open wider. 

“Fuck,” Dex whispers, and Derek jerks at the noise. Dex twists his fingers as he pushes them back inside. The room is so silent that Derek can hear the press of Dex’s fingers inside of him as much as he can feel it, the slick sound of lube being pushed into him, the rough sounds of both of their breaths loud in the silence. Derek feels more overwhelmed than he ever has during sex with Dex, with _anyone_ , and Dex isn’t even inside of him yet. The intensity in the air is just growing, surrounding them both and making Derek’s skin prickle. Dex’s thumb presses down against Derek’s tongue and he adds a third finger, tugging at Derek’s mouth as he moans, eyes sliding shut. Dex thrusts his fingers in and out once, twice, and then pulls his fingers out completely. Derek waits for the blunt press of Dex’s dick against his hole, but it doesn’t come. He finally opens his eyes to see Dex frowning down at him. 

“Don’t,” he says, and Derek frowns. “Look at me,” he says, pressing his fingers back inside, and Derek fights against the urge to shut his eyes again, instead keeping his gaze fixed on Dex’s as he slides his fingers all the way inside of Derek, as deep as he can go. Derek is drowning in the darkness in Dex’s eyes, their subtle shine mesmerizing in the space they have carved out of the shadows together. Dex slides his thumb out of Derek’s mouth, and Derek’s jaw aches as he eases his mouth shut. He again expects Dex to lean down and kiss him but he still doesn’t, remaining above Derek, surrounding him. His hand trails down Derek’s chest, wet with sweat. He stops short of where Derek’s cock lies, hard against his thigh, and Derek would moan with want if he wasn’t so consumed by the feeling of Dex’s fingers inside of him. 

When Dex pulls out, he does moan, with loss and want. He’s empty for a long moment before, finally, he feels the press of the head of Dex’s dick against him. He has the vague thought that they should stop and get a condom but then Dex is pressing inside of him and Derek isn’t thinking about anything at all. His mouth drops open helplessly at the slow, inescapable press of Dex inside of him. He’s so hot, burning up, pinned to the mattress by the heavy press of Dex’s cock sliding into him. Dex doesn’t pause when he bottoms out, gives Derek no time to catch his breath before he’s pulling out just as slowly as he pushed in. Derek can’t breath, can’t think, can’t do anything but gasp around the feeling of Dex filling him up. He’s never been more aware of another person’s skin, smooth and hot inside of him, outside of him, surrounding him and filling him and consuming him completely. Dex continues to move slowly, deliberately, and if Derek couldn’t see the way the arm braced against the pillow next to his head was trembling, he would think that Dex’s control was effortless. His other hand is gripping Derek’s hip so hard that he can feel the press of Dex’s fingers radiating outward from that spot, a sensation of pain that is nothing to the pleasure rolling through him. 

When Dex begins to speed up, it almost isn’t noticeable, until it is. He still isn’t slamming in and out of Derek the way he would normally be, is still restrained in his movements, but they’re faster now, his breath coming harder. Derek moves to wrap his hand around his own dick, but Dex pushes him away. Derek lets out a hurt little noise and Dex hushes him, keeping up his steady rhythm in and out of Derek, and Derek is completely overwhelmed by everything that is happening. Everything narrows down to Dex, inside him, surrounding him. Derek doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dex reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“I got you,” he says, as his thrusts pick up speed, going harder, _deeper_ , and Derek isn’t capable of words anymore, letting out little whimpers and hitched moans. Dex’s hand finally finds its way to Derek’s dick, and he barely has to grab ahold of it before Derek is coming with a choked noise, spilling over his stomach. Dex makes a hurt sound, suddenly slamming into Derek, and this time he does feel the tears slip from his eyes. The feeling of Dex riding him, fucking into him, using him is overwhelming. It only takes a handful of thrusts more before Dex is coming inside of Derek and _God_ he can feel it, feel Dex’s come inside of him, slicking up his insides, hot and unfamiliar. Dex thrusts a couple more times before finally stilling. He is still braced above Derek, still staring down at him. Derek can feel Dex’s come beginning to slide out of him, dripping out around Dex’s softening cock and he feels more exposed than ever, still held open by Dex’s thighs. Dex’s eyes are dark and unreadable as he reaches towards Derek’s face. He swipes beneath Derek’s nose, and when he pulls his finger away, it is dark with blood. 

“Nosebleed,” he says, and Derek raises numb fingers, feeling strangely detached from his body as he touches the wetness running from his nose. He raises his hand in front of his face and sure enough there’s blood on his fingers, almost black in the darkness. His eyes catch on Dex’s, and they stare at each other, Derek’s blood staining both of their fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did this chapter end up being mostly a sex scene? A mystery.


	4. You don't understand, you should never know

Derek falls asleep with Dex wrapped around him, the two of them barely fitting together on the single mattress. He wakes up alone, the bed next to him cold and the blankets tugged down to expose the naked jut of his hip. He tugs the blanket up, feeling strangely exposed, though he is alone in the room. He feels… off, fingers numb and lips tingling as he sits up, rubbing the back of his head as he lets his forehead rest against his blanket-covered knees. There is something twisting in his gut that he can’t recognize, and he has the feeling that his dreams had been filled with something unknowably ancient and dark. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he whispers into his knees, not sure if he is talking about his dreams or the pang that shot through him when he realized that Dex wasn’t next to him. The Haus was silent and still in the morning air, an emptiness filling its bones that mades Derek certain that Dex hadn’t just run from Derek’s bed – he’d left the house. There is a weight to an empty house, a heaviness that creeps up onto your shoulders and says, over and over again, _alone, alone, alone_ , and as Derek sat, eyes closed against the early morning light, he felt that weight sink into him. He breathed in and out slowly, listening, but there were no sounds outside of his own, the rustle of the sheets and the rasp of his breath. Even the sounds of the outside world – the cars on the street, the birds on the tree in the front yard, a dog somewhere in the distance – seemed strangely muffled and faded. Derek shivered, a full-body shudder. _There’s no one here to help you_ , he thought, or something whispered it, and he forced himself to look up, to open his eyes. The room was as empty as it had been when he woke up, piles of dirty laundry, stacks of books, a half-eaten bag of chips left open on the desk. Mundane. Ordinary. 

Derek felt like he was going to vomit with fear. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, and something about the sound of his own voice was a relief. He was okay, it was okay. 

It was another long minute before he was able to force himself to stand, the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet almost deafening. In the bathroom, he only remembered his nosebleed from the night before when he looked into the mirror. Dex had gotten up, gotten him a washcloth, cleaned his face for him in a way that had made Derek want to start crying all over again. This morning though, there was blood again – dried, flaking – lines drawn from his nose, across his lips and chin, smeared across his cheek. 

“Fuck,” he said, reaching up to touch at the stain, before taking a couple of steps until he could see back into the bedroom, looking over at the bed. There was no blood on the white sheets, on either of the pillows. He looked back at his reflection. The blood dried across the lower half of his face hadn’t disappeared. Derek swallowed, briefly closing his eyes again. He couldn’t think of how– so he wouldn’t. He’d had a nosebleed in his sleep. It happened. There was nothing… nothing strange about that.

Shaking his head at himself, Derek opened his eyes and turned on the tap. Bending over, he lifted a handful of water to his face, scrubbing over his lips and nose, waiting for the sight of red in the sink, swirling down the drain. Instead, there was only water, clear and bright. Derek frowned, then looked back up in the mirror. His heart leapt at the sight of his reflection grinning back at him, his face, his _head_ completely covered in fresh, slick blood. The him in the mirror was smiling, unblinking as blood dripped from his hair, his eyelashes, slicking his teeth. Derek sucked in a breath, lungs contracting in panic, and… and then his face was just his face again, staring back at him with wide eyes and ashen complexion. 

There was no blood.

Derek could see himself shaking in the mirror just as much as he could feel it.

He walked backwards out of the room without breaking eye contact with the mirror. He tried not to think about the wave of relief that washed through him when he slammed the door shut on the bathroom.

* * *

Derek pulled on a shirt and boxers before heading out of the room. He ignored the way his reflection in the mirror on the stairs looked back at him with darkly shadowed eyes, the way the shadows in the living room seemed far too dark, too deep. The kitchen was as brightly lit as it ever was, and Derek grabbed a banana from the bowl next to the sink, leaning against the counter as he peeled it, the same way he always did. He watched the way his hands shook as he raised the banana to his mouth and swallowed roughly, forcing himself to take a bite of the fruit, the way he always did. The banana melted in his mouth, the familiar texture turned too soft, the grain of it rough against his tongue. He swallowed. 

His hands were still shaking.

“Hey man,” Dex slammed into the kitchen, and Derek couldn’t help the way he jerked in surprise. The other man headed over to the fridge.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough with disuse, rough like he’d been screaming.

Dex’s eyes were lit up amber in the sunlight coming through the window as he looked at Derek, hair a bright red halo around his head that made Derek’s stomach swoop. Dex was frowning at him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning a bit closer. “You seem…” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes at Derek. 

“I’m fine,” Derek said quickly, looking away as he threw the half-eaten banana into the compost beneath the sink. “Just…” he ran his hand down his face as he straightened, laughing shakily. “Just bad dreams, I guess.” Dex raised an eyebrow at him.

“You feeling better then?” he asked. 

“I just said–” Derek started, but Dex cut him off, shaking his head. 

“Nah man, I just meant, from your fall, you didn’t move much yesterday.” 

“Oh. Right,” Derek said. He felt numb, distanced from his body – the aches he _knew_ he was feeling so far removed from himself that they hadn’t even registered.. “No, I mean, yeah, feeling better.” He reached over, picking an apple out of the bowl for something to hold. Dex frowned, eyes flicking to the compost and back. 

“Hey, that’s awesome,” Dex said, his face doing something strange that Derek couldn’t name. Worry, maybe, or fear. “Maybe we can get a couple more skates in then, before the end of the break, if you’re feeling up to it.” Derek hummed. 

“Yeah, probably,” he said. 

“Nice,” Dex said, “I’ve got some sick ideas that I want to try out when no one else is here.” 

“You mean when no one else is around to tell you that they’re stupid,” Derek said with a smile that only trembled a little at the edges. Dex rolled his eyes. 

“Just because they’re ‘dangerous’,” he raised his hands to make air-quotes around the word, “or whatever doesn’t mean they wouldn’t work.” 

“Sure,” Derek said, smile strengthening, raising the apple up to his lips. “I hear it’s very distracting if one of your opponents has to go to the hospital in the middle of a game.” Dex rolled his eyes again, and Derek took a bite of the apple. 

The apple had been firm in his hands but beneath his teeth the skin buckled inwards, the flesh beneath squeezing into his mouth, and he turned his head to spit it into the sick in disgust. He stared in horror at the black mush sliding down the silver of the bottom of the sink, eyes flicking down to the apple to see that it was rotten through. 

“It can’t taste that bad,” he hears Dex say, but he isn’t really listening, too busy staring at the apple and trying to figure out how he didn’t realize it was rotten. “Let me–” Dex says, and then before Derek can react, he pulls the apple from Derek’s hand. 

“Don’t!” Derek says, too late, turning to stare at Dex in horror as the other man takes a huge bite. Dex looks back at him, chewing, expression completely nonplussed. 

“Dude, what’s your problem?” he asks, and Derek can _see_ the black flesh of the apple on his teeth, on his tongue as he speaks, the rot sliding down his throat as he swallows. “It tastes fine,” he says, and Derek thinks he’s going to throw up. Dex raises the apple back towards his mouth, and Derek reacts without thinking, reaching up his hand to smack the apple out of Dex’s hand, watching as it hits the floor and explodes in rotten, blackened mush across the floor. 

“What the _fuck_.” Dex says. “Nursey, that was a perfectly fine apple, what the hell.” Derek shakes his head. He can’t… he can’t deal with this. He pushes past Dex, leaving the other man standing alone in the kitchen as he heads into the living room. For a long, dizzying moment, he doesn’t know where to go. The shadows in the room seem even darker now, the entire room dimmer than it should be given the sunshine outside, and Derek can’t be in this house anymore. He slams out of the front door, ignoring Dex shouting after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the slowest I've ever written something idk even what to tell y'all. I feel really bad, but I am still working on it!


End file.
